Self Destruct
by poisonanon
Summary: I collapsed into an enigma within myself....waited for someone to disturb what little peace I had built up...'


Let's face the facts gentlemen, sometimes, you can't control things that are apart of you.

Y'know that little voice in the back of your head? The one that tells you, 'No I don't need another energon' and 'Maybe I shouldn't interface with three guys in one day.'

I had a voice like that. Different. Not that much. Instead of telling me not to get seconds and not turn into a whore, mine always warned me that slaughtering mechs near my home might get me into trouble, and to make sure to clean myself up in order to minimize the evidence.

I'm not glitched. It's in my nature. You could always argue the fact that this was pretty much the same thing, but then again sweetie, I'm carrying the long-reach bladed weapon, and you're not.

Hey, you think I'm bad now, you should have seen me back a couple solar cycles ago. Of course, all those deaths were blamed on my lovely, air-headed twin. Not that it was either of our faults-I just didn't have a body then. And if you had the gall to strike my sister across the head with enough force to reanimate me and unleash my anger, then you probably deserved it. Bastard.

But even when I was done pulling your vertebrae out of your vocalizer before you could even think about begging for mercy, I didn't stop there. Oh no. The next ass-hole to happen across my sightline would have the pleasure of being lucky victim number 2. Decepticon or Autobot. Did I care? No. Couldn't stop to think. Too busy killing.

Of course, some genius finally figured out that my sister _really_ couldn't be the force behind the gruesome deaths at her hands, so somebody struck me and the restraints were heavy enough to make me sit still and have a lovely chat with them. A chat that contained much growling animal noises and curses that didn't even exist at the time.

So my faction, (Decepticon if you hadn't already guessed) decided I needed a body of my own, and a teensy-weensy little chip that programmed me to behave slightly. I don't mind that much. Under this savage beast there lay thoughts that Megatron would frown upon me having. Like decapitating his head and sticking it on the Nemesis's antennae. Anyway, if you think I'm horrible and evil, remember that I use to be much worse, and I'm still holding the long-reach bladed weapon. Double-sided I should mention.

I collapsed into an enigma within myself, curling up in my own little world inside of her and waited for someone to disturb what little peace I had built up for myself. I do not know where I came from, but all I know is my weapon and her. And that is all that matters. And then they screwed up and their's no sugar-coating it: she deserved better.

Sometimes I wonder if I can ever truly stop denying it all. If I can ever stop stalking and preying and striking. I do not think for one second that I am sadistic. I do not crave to inflict pain, or to watch it. I just want to take. After being trapped and wallowing inside suffering and hurt, I wanted to be greedy. And then I wonder if she will ever think less of me. And I can shrug it off because she won't. I forgive her for being dumb and stupid, and doing the dumb and stupid thing, and she can forgive me for taking.

After ol' Megs was blasted into space and the rest of the Decepticons decided to ditch me and my sis on Cybertron, I thought to myself, what the hell was I supposed to do with my time? Sit quietly like a good little femme and wait for my comrades to come back for me? I think not. Seriously, there was a whole world of unsuspecting idiots for the taking, right in my grasp. Who wouldn't take advantage of this? Another unsuspecting idiot, that's who.

My sister's name is Stargazer. She isn't technically my sister, but we've been together since the day she was born and I love her more than life itself. I looked out for her. I told her stuff like not to leave her toys out for Blitzwing to find and make sure to always screw around with Blackarachnia because she really is such a sore bitch. The usual things. But now that me, the conscience, was out in the real world, I had no conscience of my own. Star does a pretty good job telling me to do the hard and right things. Some times I listen to her, other times I ignore her.

Can't help it. My nature.

Sometimes when I come back home, Star forces a grin. Not that death disturbs her. The only reason she decided to stick with the 'Cons because she sometimes gets to blow random shit up. The fact that I could get caught-that worries her.

Sometimes I swore to myself that I would quit. That I was hanging up my Assassin Hat for the last time…..But I always go back to pick it up again. Little things. Someone trips me up on the street. Someone looks at Star funny. Someone calls her a name for her wings. Someone touches them. Someone tries to hurt her.

In the end, I go back to take them because it's in my nature to protect the only thing I will ever love.


End file.
